


Where You'll Find Me

by clockworkrobots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Fluff, M/M, Reunions, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:36:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkrobots/pseuds/clockworkrobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After learning that Cas is in danger from the wrath of fallen angels, Dean and Sam race to find him. </p>
<p>This is where they do. </p>
<p>(spoilers/speculation for season 9 within!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You'll Find Me

  
Dean is in shock at first when he sees him. After days of looking, longer of wondering, finally, _finally_ , his friend is here, in front of him. He looks a little worse for wear, sure, but he's standing and breathing and that's _better_ than good enough for Dean.

" _Cas?"_ Dean is calling out before he even realises it, as him and Sam walk towards their lost and fallen angel.

"Holy shit, man, we've been looking all over--"

Dean's grinning when he stops, breathless after only a few paces for how much relief has choked him up. He's so overwhelmed he actually doesn't really notice what Cas is standing in front of initially, instead just taking in Cas' bedraggled, tired appearance. His new clothes hang loosely off his body, both a sign they were not always _his_ clothes, but also that coming by proper food has been rough at best.  When he does glance behind Cas, he guesses what he sees there must be some kind of makeshift tent, built with ripped tarp and repurposed garbage bags to form a shelter. It's actually pretty well engineered for the sparsity of good materials, and certainly one of the better homeless shelters he's seen yet under this bridge community, but Dean immediately feels guilty knowing not two days ago he was wrapped warmly in the blankets of his bed back in the bunker.

Any misplaced guilt on the matter, however, is quickly dispelled by Cas knocking the breath out of him as he moves in close and holds Dean tight.

_Castiel is hugging him,_ Dean's mind cries before it shuts down, too overwhelmed by the presence of strong arms around him, and the smell of sweat and dirt and _Cas_ filling his nose. 

Dean hugs back on reflex, crushing Cas even firmer against his chest, and for one small, blissful moment, Dean almost cries at the fact that after six or something years of knowing each other, _finally_ there is no space in between.

He pulls away sooner than he would like, but he knows Sam deserves his turn to hug Cas 'hello,' and Dean's afraid, to be honest, that if he held on any longer he might have never let go.

When Sam releases Cas, his relaxed, relieved looked he'd embodied when he'd first perceived the Winchesters approaching is washed away in favour of a familiar tenseness. Dean steels himself. This does not bode well.

"How did you find me?" Cas asks, not accusing, but serious.

"Tracked your phone call, asked around, you know the drill," Dean explains, trying his hardest not to just grin giddily like a kid who just won a treasure hunt at a birthday party. "Jesus, it wasn't easy, but hell, ain't anything too tough for us, right?"

Cas hovers close still, eyes wide as if  still in disbelief at the sight before him. "I can't believe--" he reaches up a hand as if to grip Dean's shoulder, but then drops it just as quickly, letting the arm fall limply back to his side. Dean mourns the parting. "You're _here._ "

"Yeah," Dean and Sam both smile. _Damn right_ they're here. _They made it._

Something in Dean's unrestrained happiness, though, seems to alert Cas about something. His shoulders square from their vague slump, and his fists clench at his side. "You must go," he says, right before he turns around without another word, and walks back into the shadow of his tent.

Dean gapes after him, shocked still. 

"Um," Sam turns to him, confused expression asking just what they are supposed to do next.

Dean shakes his head, takes a breath, and signals his brother to wait outside as he follows Cas into the tent. He can do this.

"What?" Dean picks up the thread of their conversation. Cas' back is turned to him, as he leans down to pick some old, ratty blanket up off his floor made of cardboard boxes to move it to a corner, out of the way. "Well, yeah, I mean of course we weren't just gonna leave you here, but we can stick around for a bit, you say your goodbyes and whatnot--"

"No, Dean, you misunderstand," Cas interrupts when he straightens up again and turns around. "You shouldn't be seen with me. The angels-- _rightfully_ \--are after me. Not all of my brothers and sisters have the affection I do for humanity, and I am now human. I fear I will not be able to protect myself from their wrath should they find me. Certainly not anyone else," he says, and sets his jaw sharply when he finishes. But Dean can see something of intense regret in his eyes, and what Dean imagines is something like _longing_. God, why was it that every member of Dean's family was hung up on self-sacrifice?

Then again, Dean supposes he's the worst example.

"Whatever, can't be worse than Leviathan, though, right? And I have to say, I've taken on some pretty big angels in my time--"

"The risk is too big," Cas denies. "These aren't Leviathan with a blood thirst, or angels who want to use you alive, these are angels with _murderous mission_. And they will kill you if you are with me without a thought."

"Then we'll all fucking go down guns blazing. Thelma and Louise, right?" Dean jokes, and at Castiel's blank look in return he adds, "Gotta add a little variety to your TV watching, dude. Luckily I got a pretty sick display for the bunker courtesy of Charlie--"

"Dean," Cas huffs, exasperated. Dean may be a little messed up that he finds that endearing, but fuck, if that's not vintage Cas. He loves it. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm sure it's a very endearing story. But I'm also _more_ sure that this place is not where you should be right now. You need to get away from me," he repeats, solemn.

As if Dean is going to budge on this one, though, seriously. "Not gonna fucking happen, Cas," he says, which kind of raises Cas from 'annoyed' to 'angry' with astounding speed.

"And what should happen," he growls, stepping closer into Dean's space, "if angels were to descend upon us this second? Are you really asking me to die with the knowledge I sent you and your brother to your deaths as well?"

Castiel is no longer an angel, Dean knows, but it still feels like the air around them is vibrating with the furious energy of ruffling wings, ready for flight--for _fight_.

"We can take a few angry angels on," Dean dismisses. "And that's a lot of _what ifs_ , you know. I don't hear any wingless bounty hunter brother of yours coming for your head this second. We can take the threat as we go--" he tries to console, explain to Cas that it may all be a big deal that the world is gone to shit again, but this is sort of their _business_ , isn't it? And if Dean has any chance of pulling himself and this world out of the fire alive again, he damn well is gonna need is best friend with him to do it.

But it's this last straw of protest that makes Cas _explode_. "I am _useless!"_ he yells, face flushed. "I am _cancerous_ to those I love! Every effort I've made to help has been in vain. I am not good luck, Dean," he bites out bitterly, casting his head down in shame.

Dean waits a beat until he can catch his gaze again and pull Cas back to him. "Yeah, and what did I say about that before too, huh?"

Cas laughs hollowly. "Something about last resorts? I doubt I can even be _that_ anymore."

"Hey, why don't I decide if you are what I need or not?" Dean bites back. He's had fucking _enough_ of Cas assuming what is best for him, especially when their history of this has involved Cas dying and all kinds of other awful shit. This road has never been good for them, and Dean needs to stop their train before it rattles off the rails completely. 

"And you know what, Cas? I fucking _need_ you. Not as a last resort. As a _first_ resort, because... because I can't do any of this without you, man," he pleads, and he doesn't even care, if Sam is still standing outside, listening, that it'll sound like he's begging. Maybe he _is_ begging, but you know what? Dean will stoop that low for family.

Cas looks at him with sad but proud eyes. "I've seen you weather the world marvellously on your own, Dean," he says, and Dean knows he means it as a compliment, but he _still doesn't get it._

"Well I don't _want_ to! And I shouldn't have to! And you shouldn't either, Cas."

"Dean--"

"We're friends, aren't we? Friends are _there_ for each other. Listen, I know we've had our... our disagreements in the past. We have a lot of shit to work past. But I'm--I'm trying to offer you an out here, man. We can forget it, all of it. I'm saying none of that past shit matters anymore in the face of losing you again." 

There it is, any absolution Dean has to offer, laid bare.

But then Cas says something Dean does not expect at all. "What if I can't forget it?"

Dean jerks back slightly in confusion. "I--"

"What if I don't _want_ to?" Cas asks of no one. He is just a man now, in his own words, but his face is alit with the burdens of ages, and the glow of a divine that has seen too much darkness. "I don't want to forget my sins, because remembrance is part of my atonement. And I don't want to forget what we've been through _together_ , at odds or otherwise. I have many regrets, Dean, but knowing _you_ was never one," he says simply, and Dean forgets--or maybe just fail--to breathe.

Cas takes a step closer, so that the tips of their shoes touch. "I don't want a blank slate," he says, quieter. "I don't deserve it, and our friendship doesn't either. I should remember my offences against you, as well as our respites. Which is why to preserve any happiness you may have left in this life, Dean, you can't be around me. I will--"

"You leaving again is the opposite of making me happy," Dean implores him to see, voice almost at a rough whisper now, brought on by their intense proximity. "Don't you understand that I'm happier just with you _here?_ Don't you understand what this _is?"_ he gestures between them.  Dean himself doesn't really know what _this_ is, but he does know at least that it's _something_. Something worth saving.

"This isn't about safety, Cas, or _peace_. When have I ever had any of that anyway? You can say I deserve it regardless, but you know what respite looks like to me _right now?_ It's not you protecting me by distance and fucking off to die in my name. It's just _you,"_ he admits, shakily. It's all in or all out. "Jesus _fuck_ , can't you see I'm totally fucking gone on you, man?"

Cas' brown pinches into a frown. "Gone on me?"

"Don't--shit, you _know,_ " Dean huffs, because Cas fucking _should_ know. How can he not? "If I'm not fucking worried sick over you, I'm thinking about kissing you--"

"Dean--"

"Even when I'm pissed at you!" he laughs, more at himself than anything. "God, even when you're miles away terrified I might hate you, I'm wringing myself silly terrified _you_ hate _me_ , and that's horrible because I can tell you right now the amount of times I've wanted to punch you since I've met you does not even fucking compare to the amount of times I just wanted to kiss you and--"

" _Dean_ ," Cas interrupts, and Dean stops abruptly in his panic.

"What?"

Cas licks his lips, and Dean's eyes track the motion, before he says, very seriously, with all the righteous, holy bluster of that first night in the barn,"I can't very well kiss you now if you are still talking. Shut up, please."

"Oh, yeah," Dean offers blankly, before his mind actually catches up to his ears and he realises what Cas just _said_. "Wait, _what?_ " he starts, but any other coherent sentence is swallowed up by Cas kissing him.

"Mmmpf."

If Dean thought the hug earlier was too much, this right now then is _way too fucking much_ , because Cas may kiss with all the experience of a fish, but holy hell if he is not as hot as the sun, and if his too dry lips don't swallow Dean's heart up whole when they press against his mouth, warm and inviting and nothing that Dean expected to find here under a cold bridge in the middle of America, but yet exactly what he'd wanted.

"Fuck, I can't believe--" he begins when they break for air.

Cas' eyes are bright and blue and so, _so_ close, and achingly earnest when he smiles and just says, "Yes," as if that's the one answer to everything. Maybe it is.

But first, Dean steals a second kiss.


End file.
